


my friends don't walk, they run

by ivydivine



Series: sick kids [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Based on a Melanie Martinez Song, Blood, Blood and Torture, Brutal Murder, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Cults, Gen, Graphic Description, Guns, Happy Murder Family, Implied Relationships, Knives, Meet the Family, Mental Instability, Parent/Child Incest, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Schizophrenia, Weapons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 14:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivydivine/pseuds/ivydivine
Summary: Neglected by their flesh and blood, a group of boys create their own family— one that's out for blood.
Series: sick kids [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207292
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the backstory of jeongin, from 'he will be loved' except the events of 'he will be loved' will never happen.

"Appa?"

Jeongin's little feet pad step by step, unsure of where to go, so he pitters in place, hugging his woolen stuffed bunny to his chest. Tiny fingers card through the soft, messy wool.

With struggle, he pushes open the sliding door, stepping into the snow caked back yard. The slush white is merciless on the soles of his bare feet, cold winter kissing his cheeks and leaving it's painful red mark, but he pushes forward. He needs his appa to get the blankets from the hall closet; it would be a chilly night.

Day breaks over the sturdy wooden fence. Part of him wonders what lingers on the other side. 

"Appa?" He calls again, lip wobbling against the cold and night clothes swishing on his skinny frame.

Silence.

"U...Umma?" Jeongin tries shyly. He wishes for any sort of presence, suddenly missing his umma's harsh smacks and bloody pinches. He hated being alone, out here in the cold snow, unable to feel his toes in the freezing temperatures.

"Appa— Appa? Innie...Innie misses you. Innie will be...g-good boy for Appa, he swears—"

His teeth chitter, eye lashes clumping with ice, knees knocking while he treks on, venturing further into the backyard with hazy vision. 

Red gleams stark against the snow.

"...Appa?"

Teeth are scattered, yellow and white and chipped, all throughout where snow has been cleared to reveal frozen grass, stained with thick, red _blood._ Crippled fingers bend at awkward angles, stretched from a mangled arm attached to a twisted shoulder, chapped lips that were once vibrant stretched into a permanent scream, wild hard strung from a crushed skull.

The little boy stumbles back. His rabbit falls, right into a pool of blood and brain matter, his lip wobbling but not from the cold. His umma wasn't moving, her beautiful features gnarled and unfamiliar to his childish eyes. 

" _Umma,"_ he whimpers. He wants to say more, but the words his appa taught him don't fit the situation.

Jeongin doesn't know what to do, so he does what he'd been trained to.

He begs.

Sobs and begs to whoever could hear him, sobs for them to bring his umma back, his cruel, unloving umma, with her cold hands and her harsh beatings and her vile words. He needed her, needed his appa; he'd do anything to get his appa back. Even sit still and quiet while rough fingers touched him where it hurt most, do anything his appa wanted him to if he just _came back._

"What're you crying for?"

Through his tears, Jeongin gazes up at a grinning boy with cat eyes.

"You're the one who killed her. Why are you crying?"

He did not...didn't...

The boy snorts.

"I see. You're too _stupid_ to know what that means, aren't you? A shame; such brutal hands with an unintelligent mind. We'll have to change that."

Jeongin whimpers, again, clutching the tail of the boys sweater. His hands are tainted with blood and bone.

"Need...need Appa. Where Appa?"

Sighing, the older pries Jeongin's hands from his clothing, instead heaving the tiny boy onto his hip. (Maybe he scowls in disapproval at how skinny he is.)

"Your Appa is gone. Your one of us, now— one of the _strays._ "

He uses a gentle finger to wipe the child's bloodied cheeks.

"Want..." The child sniffs, stuffing his face into the crook of soft neck. "Appa."

"You don't need your Appa; you have us. Doesn't he, hyung?"

Footsteps crunch through the snow, eyes peering at Jeongin where he peeks shyly from his cavern.

"He sure does." A blonde, soft eyed boy smiles softly at him, red smudging his cheeks. "Don't cry, little one— we'll take care of you."

Jeongin still wants his appa. But the boy's eyes are so kind, and the one behind him has long hair that he lets Jeongin grip in a grimy fist without so much as a grimace, cooing as he shifts him onto a thorny hip.

"You're tired, aren't you?"

A hand pats his back, something warm draped over his shivering, numb frame. His teeth chatter where he chews a fistful of hair, coating it in spit.

"Forget your Appa. Hyung's got you now— go to sleep, bun."

Plush lips press on his forehead. It's so tempting to rest in this cooing, long haired boy's arms, absently mouthing at his silky locks with frozen lashes and tired eyes, but he must stay awake, wait for his Appa—

His appa never treated him this nice, held him and whispered soft, nice sounding things in his ear (he couldn't understand what they meant), rubbed his back through his nightdress without means to touch and taint him. Could he...forget his appa, like the nice boys said?

A soothing sound in his ear echoes throughout his skull. It's not...not talking. It sounds like his umma, before she became mean and rancid, the thing she called a _song._ Is this boy— singing? Is that the word? He's not sure. It sounds nice, just a gentle murmur against the crown of his head, a few words he can understand seeping through. _Darling— here— pretty—_

He supposes he could sleep.

Just...for a little while...


	2. MEET THE FAMILY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> introducing...drum roll...fluffy murder family! 🥰

_Stray Kids_ was small, but they were lethal.

Bang Chan, twenty-four, with hard eyes always hidden by a hat, constantly undermined of his skill, but the burning bodies he left in his wake always dwindled the underestimation. 

Lee Minho, twenty-tree, hardly having to spare a glance of his cat like eyes to send people scampering away. He was cold, calculated, silent and sly like a feline, his bone chilling grins and seemingly infinite supply of nerve stopping pins making him someone to fear.

Seo Changbin, twenty-two, stocky and short and broodingly dark, eyes always closed off and gaze constantly sharp. He could move his brass clad fist quicker than you could pull a knife— the crunch of cartilage under his knuckles was something familiar to him.

Hwang Hyunjin, twenty-one, silky haired and sultry eyed, his pretty looks only a cover for his dangerous ways. His elegant hands were scarred from the shining metal of his blades, his lithe fingers flicking out knives like a magician performing a card trick.

Han Jisung, twenty-one, round cheeked with a wild gaze and a childish aura, though his blood stained nail bat served as a cautious warning that he was not one to be crossed.

Lee Felix, twenty-one, a freckled face with plush lips and a candy blush, always one to charm and fawn. A little ray of sunshine, he was, sitting atop his throne of bodies and licking the blood from his fingers; the victims of his golden gun would dare to detest his bright aura.

Kim Seungmin, twenty-one, puppy eyed and soft voiced. Such a cute excuse of a monster, his soft gaze and bloodied lips the last thing his victims see before he sets theirs flesh alight; much like his leader, he had a liking for making things burn.

And finally, Yang Jeongin.

Hardly eighteen, a bright smile and a voice never heard. He was different from the others, eerily unique in his choice of weaponery— his bare, raw hands. Jagged nails and callused skin, used to tear hair from scalp and flesh from bone, gouge eyws from their sockets and rip teeth from their gums. Blood would seep from his cracked and broken nails after every scene, and brain matter would linger in his cuticles.

They couldn't be a more perfect family.

**Author's Note:**

> happy murder family kindly abducts tiny murder child. jeongin is eight, in this chapter, while the others are in their early teens/tweens. if it's not obvious, jeongin was not given proper education, and knows very few words and phrases. can't understand most things and is not fluent in ANY language.


End file.
